The Woman In White
by Tarma Hartley
Summary: A woman's mysterious disappearance from an asylum in the late 19th century sets the scene as more people go missing in the years following. Miles and Phoenix are coming back from a movie and are about to have a most terrifying experience. T, PxE


_A/N: Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix don't belong to me, worse luck; they belong to CAPCOM. However, Jennie Hamilton, the Doctor and Matrons at Guggin's Female Sanitarium, the children who disappeared, the plot and Guggin's Female Sanitarium as a whole belong to me. :^)_  
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_A woman's mysterious disappearance from an asylum in the late 19th century sets the scene as more people go missing in the intervening years following. Miles and Phoenix are coming back from a movie and are about to have the experience of their lives that neither of them will be able to forget..._  
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Originally titled "Radio Silence," I'd forgotten that I'd finished the Prologue to this story and have two pages of chapter 1. Ooops. I _really_ have to get my drafts together into a single folder instead of being all over the place. I renamed it "The Woman In White" since it went off the rails from it's original plot once I'd started writing it but that's all to the good, as far as I'm concerned.

Anyway, it's set at Halloween-when most weird things happen-when Phoenix and Miles have the fright of their lives coming! It _definitely_ will not be a night that they will _ever_ forget!

It's also somewhat of a period piece-at least in the Prologue and other places in flashbacks-although I have taken some creative liberties where the conditions of 19th century asylums are concerned.  
They _weren't_ pleasant places to be in for the Victorian, and earlier, views on the mentally ill were barbaric, to say the least; although there_ were_ some humane doctors, the vast majority _weren't_. Therefore, Jennie's rather humane treatment by the doctors and matrons in Guggin's Female Sanitarium is rather ahead of the curve.

I_ love_ true haunted house, asylum/hospital/prison/castle/graveyard stories! They're _really_ creepy places, especially if they've been abandoned for some time [ie Eastern State Penitentiary in Pennsylvania, for instance] and make the _perfect_ foil for a ghost story! It's the kind of delicious, seasonal creepiness that I enjoy!

Thanks to my readers! I appreciate your comments, faves, story and author alerts and suggestions and I hope that you will keep them coming! :^)

Extra special thanks to my beloved husband, DezoPenguin, who's unfailing love, support, advice, nagging [when necessary], tender loving care and helps to keep me grounded when I feel like tearing my hair out during the writing process! Love you, Hon, and thanks!

Comments and suggestions are very welcome and encouraged!

Hope you enjoy!

_Further Note: There is no Guggin's Female Sanitarium anywhere in real life; I made both it, and the name, up. There is also no such person or persons as Jennie Hamilton, Dr. Allan Poe and the children who disappeared later are also products of my own imagination and do not exist anywhere else outside of my own mind.  
Anderson, CA _does_ exist but has been used fictitiously.  
Dr. Poe's book, _Jennie Hamilton: The Woman In White_ also does not exist anywhere outside of my own imagination._

_The conditions inside the asylum are not made up and are _very_ real although, as I stipulated earlier, I _ did _take some creative liberties with the rather humane treatment of Jennie Hamilton; the real history is far from pleasant in the vast majority of places._

Rated Teen, Horror/Supernatural, Phoenix & Edgeworth  
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_October 31st, 1898  
Guggins Female Sanitarium  
Anderson, CA  
9:55 P.M._

_Jennie Hamilton looked out of the rain-streaked window, humming softly to herself as she slowly ran her fingertips downward until she touched the smooth-grained wood window pane underneath. She tilted her head slightly to the right, her dirty-blonde hair falling past her shoulders and falling to her knees in a shimmering cascade, her white silk nightgown falling in graceful folds to her delicately slippered feet._

This _was always her favorite time of the year, this last night of October; she loved seeing the leaves turning their brilliant gold and orange colors, shimmering in a wonderful aquatic reflection on the glass-like surface of the lake a few hundred yards away from where she stood. She very rarely went outside these days but, when she did, she loved walking by the lake, scattering leaves delightedly in her wake as she did when she was a child._

_Jennie sighed, her green eyes looking troubled and sad. Those glorious halcyon days seemed so far away now; her parents had disowned her and brought her to this godforsaken place as punishment for her sin._

_Her mouth twisted in distaste as she thought of it. The_ only _sin she had committed, as far as she was concerned, was falling in love with the wrong man and giving herself to him when he promised that he would marry her; she'd been a foolish girl of eighteen then and trusted his honeyed words that whispered to her of of his undying love and affection._

_Her heart twitched painfully at the memory of when she'd learned of her lover's deception and treachery. How cruel, and bitter, it had been to discover that his words, once such a pleasure for her, turned to ashes as he deserted her once she became with child and her parents carted her off here after disowning her. The babe, a beautiful little girl with downy blonde hair, porcelain skin and violet eyes, hadn't survived long and had died a mere three months after her birth, that bitter anniversary now four years ago._

_Jennie's eyes welled with tears as she thought of her lost child, lifting her fingertips and pressing them against the frosty window, her breath steaming up the cold glass. Her lips trembled as she pressed her forehead to the glass, tears rolling silently down her cheeks, her hands clenched into fists. She couldn't let_ them _see her cry; they told her that she would get over it eventually but, four years on, she still thought of her, her beautiful Helena, and mourned for her loss._

_She clenched her teeth hard to try and stifle the sorrowful mewl that bubbled up inside her, longing to find expression and, after a few moments, she'd managed to do just that, her chest heaving with repressed sobs. They couldn't understand how she felt; they had no idea of the pain and anguish she'd suffered in silence for the better part of four years. What did they know? Did any of_ them _ever lose a child? Did any of_ them _have to deal with the pain and agony that she was experiencing? Did_ they _understand_ how _much she'd_ wanted _that child?_

_And she had. Despite what Helena's father had done, she had wanted their child, the fruit of their love together however fleeting that love had ultimately proven to be. She'd relished the nine months that she had carried her, singing softly throughout the long, hot summer nights into fall's biting chill. She'd dreamed what it would be like to be a mother, to care for the life that she was carrying inside her; dreamed of her daughter's future, of what she would be, what she could be._

_This child would be her salvation, of that she was certain. She no longer cared that her parents had disowned her; she no longer cared that her world had been confined to four thick stone walls; she no longer cared that her faithless lover had impregnated her and then deserted her._

_She even found it within herself to forgive those in the Sanitarium who had been unkind to her; to be sure, there were some who thought that she was a loose woman and she fought a mostly silent, though grim, battle against the epithet._

_Jennie spent those happy, golden months leading up to her daughter's birth in a state of near euphoria knitting booties, a layette that included a blanket, infant clothing, socks and a comforter and a cap that she had added some white lace that she had found in Matron Casey's sewing basket that the rotund, cheerful Irish woman had gladly let her have._

_She'd hummed a merry tune every day of those days and even the dour-looking matron, Kathleen Cooke, who had never a nice thing to say to her since her arrival here, had noticed and commented on how much happier she looked as her pregnancy progressed. Of course, there were the inevitable sarcastic and caustic remarks about her but she didn't care; for the first time in her life, Jennie was truly happy._

_She looked forward to the future and, as her due date inched ever closer, she found herself anticipating the coming event. She should have known that it was not to be. A thousand happy thoughts were cruelly snatched from her three months after Helena's birth when she awoke one morning to see the matron bending over the unnaturally still cradle, looking at the silent bundle within with tears in her eyes. To Jennie's sleepy question, the matron had hedged a little until, now alarmed, she shot straight up in bed, demanding to know, in a quavering voice, what was the matter._

_The matron had looked at her for some time in silence before she mumbled something like "the little one's soul had gone back to her Creator" and Jennie had completely broken down. Still a little sore-she was recovering slowly form the birth-she'd managed to drag herself out of bed and across the floor to where the cradle, now empty, stood. She barely remembered the next few days since they were all a blur in her mind and, once she'd come to herself again three weeks later, she had been grateful that they were such._

_She'd been sedated, she learned later, all that time on her doctor's orders; in a way, she had been glad but, in another, she'd hated him for it. She'd wanted to say goodbye to her lost infant daughter properly but they'd taken away her baby's body and didn't tell her where they had buried it._

_She'd suffered another breakdown a few weeks after the first one, crying and screaming for her lost baby; they'd had to restrain her and she had thrashed around in her bed, kicking the blankets askew repeatedly, yelling for them to give her back her baby. It had taken some months before she had finally accepted and come to terms with, as much as she could, with her loss._

_That was why she was standing next to the window this stormy Halloween night. This was the time of __year when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead was at its thinnest and she hoped against all hope that she would see the shade of her dearly departed child. She'd stood lone sentinel for weeks by this very window, looking out over the grounds to the lake beyond where she could see the golden oranges and yellow leaves turning with the season._

_For some reason she didn't quite understand, the landscape always gave her a sense of peace and she hadn't minded standing here, hour after lonely hour, waiting for the shade of her dead daughter; the other doctors and staff gave her a wide berth since she'd begun to sport such a peculiar look that chilled more than one person to the bone._

_Matron Cooke hadn't been happy with her newly acquired window gazing habit at first but, though she felt more sympathy for Jennie than most of the other staff members, in time she too began to drift away from her. There was something about her, some obsession, that made the others very uncomfortable and even the other patients had begun to avoid her when they saw her walking down the hall dressed in her flowing white nightgown._

_They'd called her "The Ghost" and she found this to be a fitting epithet since she had, in essence, ceased to care about the world of the living and began to reside in the world of the dead. Night after night in the weeks leading up to Halloween night, she could be found at the window in her cell, staring out the window for hours._

_For the past three years, she'd returned to her bed, disappointed that she had not been able to see her daughter but, for some reason, she felt that tonight would be different, that her dearest and only wish was going to come true. She didn't know exactly how but she was convinced it would be. She announced to everyone that passed by her that "tonight would be the night she would, at last, be able to see her daughter" although most scoffed and openly laughed at her._

_She was non-plused and continued to insist that tonight she would be able to see her daughter again and her nocturnal sojourns at the window became more and more frequent as the end of October came ever closer. The night that Jennie disappeared she had told the matron that she would be able to see her daughter again since she had dreamed of her every night for the past four weeks, dreams in which Helena called out repeatedly for her mother to come to her._

_Matron Cooke had narrowed her eyes and told Jennie not to believe in such foolishness; why, the dead were with God and what right had she to snatch her child from the Beatific Vision? It was God's Will that Helena should die, the matron said firmly and with conviction and Jennie, as a mere mortal, had no right to go against God's Will. Would you want to take her from that heaven she's in for the dirty and dusty earth? What mother could possibly want that for her child?_

_Jennie continued to insist and the matron had soon left, leaving her standing by the window. The Matron had tried to bury herself in her duties and forget about the strange conversation but she couldn't get Jennie's words out of her mind, nor of her conviction that her child would come to her tonight. Such things were a blasphemy against God and Matron Cooke firmly believed that everything, life, death and eternity, had a reason and mortals had no right to rebel against the divine order of things._

_It had bothered her enough that she had resolved to speak with Dr. Carson, head of the Asylum and Jennie's personal physician, as soon as she could but,a s the day wore on, she had no time in which to spare; one of the patients, Lydia Black, had become violent and had gotten into a tussle with __her roommate. It had taken Matron Cooke, Dr. Carson, three orderlies and seven nurses an hour to restrain her, tie her in her bed and sedate her; by the time it was all over, and Lydia safely taken care of, the clock in the parlor had struck eleven and Matron Cooke was again reminded of the strange conversation she'd had with Jennie some hours earlier._

_Alarmed, Matron Cooke had called for Dr. Carson, hastily explaining the words that had passed between herself and Jennie. After Matron had finished speaking, the good doctor had turned and, without a word, broken into a run, his face white and strained. Matron Cooke followed as they raced up the winding staircase to Jennie's room with silence answering their desperate entreaties._

_They turned the doorknob back and forth, pushing in on it to try and open the door but found it was locked form the inside. Dr. Carson had shouted for someone to help them break down the door and Pete, one of the burly orderlies that worked on the third floor, had heard and arrived posthaste._

_He joined his strength to that of Dr. Carson and Matron Cooke and, within a short time, had broken the door down, all three falling into the room and finding the room as silent as the grave, the window broken and the curtains being tossed about violently by the wind._

_Of Jennie there was no sign, only the broken glass that littered a small area in front of the window, lying in puddles that had been driven in by the biting, ferocious wind. The shawl she used to cover herself was lying neatly folded on her bed, along with her slippers. It was never made clear as to why she had chosen to go into the wild night clad only in a white nightgown..._

_She'd disappeared, even though they had searched everywhere they could think of for her. She was never seen alive again nor was there any trace of her and, while her parents had offered a five hundred dollar reward for any information leading to her whereabouts, it was never claimed. Time passed and still the mystery remained and, although there were some who claimed that they had spotted her in different parts of the state of California and beyond, she was never seen again._

_Where was Jennie? Where had she gone and why had she disappeared? Rumors abounded for years after her disappearance as to where she had gone and why: There were some who said that she'd been done away with by the good doctor Carson himself in secret and that he, also, had been the father of her child; there were others who said that Dr. Carson had killed her and secretly ground her body into sausages for the swine they kept on the property and provided the pork, bacon, ham hocks and roasts; there were those who said that she had been killed by Matron Cooke who had buried her body somewhere on the Sanitarium's property._

_Still others were convinced that the spirit of her dead child had come to claim her mother, as Jennie had kept insisting to anyone who would listen; some said that she was still in the woods surrounding the Sanitarium, mad as a hatter, still calling for her dead child and there were some who said that Old Jack, the resident ghost who was said to have roamed in the woods surrounding the property, had stolen her away and taken her with him into the land of the dead._

_Whatever the answer was, Jennie was gone and there was no trace of her that remained. The authorities of both the Sanitarium and the local police force finally stopped looking for her in 1903 and she was declared dead a few months later though her body was still missing._

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_From the book_ Jennie Hamilton: The Woman in White by Dr. Allan Poe [Published August 15th, 1990, Stephenson & Marlin Press, Sacramento, CA, USA]

Her parents, who's harsh views had miraculously softened in the intervening years, were never able to reconcile themselves to her death and both died within two months of each other in 1910. They would, for the rest of their lives, wish that they had treated her better than they had and not tossed her aside so casually twelve years earlier.

Of Jennie's siblings, only two made it their life's work to try and find out where she had gone and what had happened to her. Her younger sister, Jessie, spent the remaining forty years of her life trying to find out what had happened to her sister but to no avail, going to her grave in November of 1938 a bitter and disappointed old woman. Her older brother, Richard, spent the remaining sixty years of his life searching for his sister but had no better luck than Jessie had and went to his grave in 1958 no closer to an answer over what had become of Jennie than his sister had.

Life in Anderson went on and Jennie, and her mysterious disappearance, faded away into the dusty annals of history. People grew up, married and had children of their own, living their lives much the same way that the people of the community had for generations; if anyone wondered what had happened to Jennie in 1898, little was said and even less was spoken aloud.

Everyone had their own theories over what had become of her although the old timers in the 1950's and 60's-the Sanitarium had closed it's doors for good in 1940 and the property was left to rot-always warned Anderson's children never to go into the woods on the old Sanitarium property or Old Jack would spirit them away to the land of the dead.

Tales circulated for years over the mysterious disappearances of two local children, Sally Henson and Jonathan Specke, who were last seen entering the woods surrounding the old Sanitarium property in 1959. Whatever the truth of it was, neither Sally or Jonathan were ever seen again and their grieving families were left to wonder what had happened to them, where they had gone and why. Local police and volunteers had scoured one hundred square miles over the old Sanitarium property line and came up with nothing; there were no clues to be found and no indication that the children were ever there.

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_Little did anyone know that Jennie hadn't left Anderson; she was still there, waiting in the shadows for her time to come out again into the world she had long since left one hundred and thirty-three years earlier._

_Watching. And waiting._


End file.
